


Sober Thoughts

by jackelope



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Piss kink, Urination, Watersports, cock piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackelope/pseuds/jackelope
Summary: Johnny is completely, absolutely, unequivocallywasted.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Sober Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> SO this idea popped into my head and I just couldn't shake it off, I knew what I must do. I sorta went for 'vague AU' (since we're assuming Johnny is actually alive here) and I apologize if it's a little weird/ooc but frankly, I had to do it to 'em

Johnny is completely, absolutely, unequivocally _wasted_.

V is smart enough to be aware that he's not exactly sober either, but Johnny is so utterly hammered that he feels plenty composed by comparison. The man parties hard, V will give him that. Even now that he's finally staggering back through the door to his suite, Johnny is still clutching a mostly empty bottle in one hand, probably just out of sheer muscle memory at this point. V somehow didn't notice he was still carrying it on the drive back - but, to be fair, the ride back is already mostly a blur, which likely means V was gunning it the whole way and hadn't even realized it. He did remember Johnny vehemently insisting that there was no way he'd let V drive his car but then getting into the passenger's seat anyway, likely too out of it to properly realize that that meant V was, in fact, driving his car. V _didn't_ , however, remember running into anything, which meant he hadn't fucked the thing up too bad, or at least not as bad as Johnny would've if he'd been driving.

More importantly, he's finally gotten Johnny back to his damn hotel room. He's walking dizzily ahead of V, looking around like he has no idea where he is, but V feels a heavy wave of relief as the door shuts behind them. V is still drunk and doesn't feel like taking himself anywhere else, so crashing here with Johnny will have to do. Pretty trashy place, but he's got a decent-sized suite with two adjoining rooms, so there's at least a couch for V to sleep on (provided Johnny doesn't pass out there first).

But of course Johnny can't make things easy for him and just go black out somewhere. He immediately leans his weight back against the wall, groaning softly and using his free hand to fumble with his zipper. V furrows his brow, trying to formulate something to say, but the words don't coalesce fast enough; way before V can stop him, Johnny already has his dick out and is pissing like a racehorse all over the floor. And fuck, that's not even a joke; the man must have a bladder the size of a goddamn horse's because it comes out of him like a hose and just _doesn't_ _stop_.

"Johnny, what the fuck are you doing?" V is finally cognizant enough to say something, but he doesn't do anything other than stare. It's not like he can really stop him now, and it wouldn't even matter that much because he's already made a huge fucking mess anyway.

"I gotta piss." Johnny grunts, nonchalant in his drunkenness as if this were the most obvious solution to that problem. His synthetic arm lifts that bottle of scotch to his lips so he can knock back the last of it while his other hand stays holding his cock, as if he's actually aiming at anything and not just pouring out senselessly at whatever happens to be in front of him. V just sighs. The irony of Johnny drinking and pissing at the same time is not lost on him - and yes, he's _still_ pissing. V has never seen anyone pee this much in his entire life.

"You're makin' a fuckin' mess." He huffs, knowing fully well it means nothing to Johnny. If he's drunk enough to piss on the floor, he's way beyond listening to reason. The floor is smooth and hard, so none of it is soaking in and and every drop is just causing the pool to spread out even further. He really is making an absolute mess of the place.

"'S fine, V." Is all Johnny manages to slur out. He then stares down the barrel of his bottle with his mouth slightly agape, like he's confused as to why no more alcohol is coming out. V rubs his temple. Johnny is apparently either too drunk to notice or too drunk to care that V is still just staring at him. V's not sure why, but he can't really figure out anything else to do apparently, and watching Johnny is making him feel...weird. His face is kinda hot, and so is something down below his stomach that he can't identify. Maybe it's just secondhand embarrassment, and maybe he's about to be sick - but then why can't he tear his eyes away?

Johnny lazily drops his empty bottle on the floor at his side. It doesn't shatter, but it hits the ground loudly. Johnny slips a little further down the wall with an audible moan of what V can only assume is relief.

"Fuck, man." V sighs, shaking his head. Eventually Johnny manages to empty his bladder, shakes the last drops off and shoves his dick back into his pants. Without even zipping up, he attempts to right himself (swaying quite a lot) and walk off, but he immediately starts to slip on his own piss and very nearly falls over. V somehow manages to muster up the reflexes to jump over there and catch him, trying to keep him from crashing right into the puddle he just created. Johnny gives him a glare, like somehow stopping him from falling over is a personal affront to him.

"I _got it_ , V." He scoffs indignantly, shoving V off of him and stomping off through the wet spot on the floor by himself - though he has to lean against the wall on the way in order to do so.

V rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you got it." He jeers, with an awkwardly dismissive wave of his hand towards Johnny's back as he walks off into the other room. "Asshole." He snipes a parting insult just barely under his breath, not really caring whether Johnny hears him or not.

Fuck. His vision is starting to spin and his legs feel weak beneath him. V takes a page from Johnny's playbook and leans against the wall himself, crinkling his nose at the smell in the room as though it's just now hit him. For some reason his pants feel uncomfortable. He reaches down to adjust them a little and is surprised to find that he has a hardon.

Honestly, he really should have noticed earlier; maybe he's not that much more sober than Johnny is after all. The rest of the pieces don't click right away. V gropes himself clumsily, gasping through his teeth at how sensitive it feels, but he doesn't understand how this happened. He's pretty sure he didn't have a raging boner when he was walking through the door...but the only thing that's happened since then is Johnny pissing on the floor. Johnny pissing on the floor...while V watched him. And that was when he'd started feeling that hot fuzzy feeling that he couldn't identify, which was apparently him getting aroused. His cock seems to agree with his deduction, because he feels it throb pretty hard as soon as he thinks about Johnny pissing again. V isn't really sure what to do with this revelation, but his body seems to work on autopilot, his hands struggling to get his fly open but succeeding after a moment. He gets a hand around his dick and is stroking himself before he can fully process what he's even doing. Thankfully, Johnny's already off in the other room, and is probably bound to just fall asleep as soon as he sits down somewhere, so V's not that worried about the other man walking in on him. Actually, he's not really thinking about it at all.

And that's probably a good thing, because V is so turned on he really can't help himself. His eyes slip down to the pool on the floor, staying fixed there while he rubs himself and pants out hot, breathy moans. He keeps thinking about Johnny and that hot, strong stream of piss shooting from the end of his cock. V's legs wobble and he sinks down to his knees. He just needs to get a little closer, just a little closer to the puddle so he can...fuck, he doesn't even know, he just wants to get down there. He's sitting on his knees now, not quite in the puddle but at the edge of it. Even here he's not close enough, so he shuffles backwards a little and gets down on one hand as well, still at least sort of careful to not put it right in the puddle. The whole damn room smells musty, so the scent isn't actually that much stronger down here, but that's not the point anyway; it's more about the _idea_ of it.

His face is pretty close to the pool of Johnny's piss by now. He starts to wonder a little bit what it tastes like.

It's definitely not something he would've done if he was sober, but again, he's pretty damn drunk, so he leans forward a little and dips his tongue into the pool. It's still a bit warm, but not _hot_ the way it is when it's fresh. Somehow encouraged, V gets his whole mouth in there to suck it up instead of just tentatively licking it. It...doesn't taste _good_. It's pretty salty and kinda bitter, but not bad enough to make him spit it out, especially because drinking it makes his dick pulse desperately in his hand. " _Fuck_." V pants, eyes lidded, his hand sliding ungracefully up and down over his cock.

He's pretty content to just keep going. Since there's already piss all over the floor, he doesn't really see much fault in cumming right next to it. Surely it'll be fine after a fucking night like this to jerk himself off really quick before he finally drags his ass to the sofa to pass out. Johnny won't find out anyway, and hell, V might not even remember it in the morning either. He's fully enveloped - his eyes dark with lust, hand rapidly rubbing his cock, tongue continuing to slide out of his mouth to lap more piss up off the floor - when he hears Johnny's voice, slowed and distorted by drunkenness, call out to him from the bedroom.

Those fast reflexes that V managed to reclaim earlier do not favor him a second time and he just lifts his head up stupidly, only able to think _'what do I do?'_ in a brief, violent circle like a car spinning out before Johnny calls his name again, and this time he's much closer. By the time V dares to look up, Johnny's footsteps are all but right in front of him; he's almost in the bedroom doorway. "Hey, V?" He mumbles, rubbing his eye as though that'll somehow actually do something to clear his blurry vision. He furrows his brow like he's not sure what he's seeing (which, to be fair, he probably isn't). "V?" He repeats haltingly, like he's forgotten what he was going to say in the first place.

V just stays there stupidly, without the composure about him to even put his dick back in his pants. It's like he thinks that if he stays still enough, Johnny will forget he's there or something.

Johnny may be plastered, but he's not a goddamn wild animal, so V's instinct doesn't work. It takes a few seconds, but the blatant confusion on Johnny's face is suddenly punctuated by a spark of realization. V feels a stab of fear shoot right through him and he knows he has to at least _try_ to salvage this situation.

It's a short-lived attempt. The only thing he manages to get out of his mouth is a choppy stammer of, "Joh-uhh..."

"V - what the fuck are you doing?" Johnny spits, abruptly taking on an aggressive posture, a light burning in his brown eyes like he's _seriously_ angry.

"'S not what it looks like Johnny, alright?" V tries to protest. That's basically blatant lie, because it's pretty much _exactly_ what it looks like, but it's the first defense V can think of. He manages to get back up onto his knees, but that sudden movement makes him dizzy and he has to lean against the wall for support.

"Bullshit." Johnny growls. He's got a look in his eyes that could kill somebody. V feels it almost physically; Johnny is staring right through him and even in his delirious drunken stupor he can tell V is full of shit and has nothing else to defend himself with.

Johnny seems to be fed up with using his words now, as he decides instead to trudge his way right through the liquid pooled on the floor to stand next to V, who almost instinctively cowers. He really doesn't want to get into a fight with Johnny; it certainly wouldn't be either's first drunken brawl, but it's seriously the last thing V needs right now, especially considering neither of them has even zipped up their pants yet and at least one of them is liable to slip and fall on their ass right into the piss puddle. The only thing V can hope for is that Johnny won't remember _why_ they got into a fistfight by the time he wakes up tomorrow. Before V can really do any worrying about that, though, Johnny shoves hard against his back and V collapses forward again, just barely managing to get his hands underneath himself so he doesn't slam face-first into the floor.

Immediately, Johnny is on him, fingers rooting themselves in V's hair to keep control as he settles down into a crouch right behind him, trying to use his body to block V from wriggling out of his grip in that direction. "So you're a nasty bitch, huh?" Slurs Johnny from somewhere above him. "This what you like?" V tries to push himself off the floor and Johnny shoves him back down even harder, knuckling the back of his head. V feels the side of his face touch wetness this time.

"Johnny, c'mon..." He pleads weakly. "Lemme go, man." A part of him is still hoping to avoid a full-blown fight between the two of them; if he can just coax Johnny down a little, maybe he can get out of this without a black eye or a broken nose.

"Not 'til you lick the whole floor clean, baby." Johnny hums, now suddenly sounding an awful lot like he's _amused_ by this. Apparently he's accepted a surrender V never declared and is now ready to enjoy lording himself over him. V feels indignant; he doesn't want to fight with Johnny, but he doesn't like being toyed with, and a surge of dumb, drunken belligerence starts to well up inside him.

"Johnny - _ugh_ \- get _off_." V protests more firmly now, wrestling his weight against the force of Johnny bearing down on him. Johnny has a significant amount of leverage on him from from this position, so it doesn't do much. Using as much of his intelligence as he can, V rolls his weight to his left. He ends up yanking his own hair, but Johnny loses his grip and V lands safely on his side. He dizzily tries to push himself up, but Johnny quickly interrupts and shoves V right back down - not hard enough to really hurt, but definitely hard enough to knock the breath out of him. V lands on his back with a wet _slap_ as the upper half of his body comes down directly in the pool of piss.

Johnny is perched right above him again, settling in on one knee, this time with a cocky smirk on his face. "I'm not the one who's tryna get off here." He teases, sounding positively tickled with himself at that little joke. V just huffs at him. Lying a puddle of room-temperature liquid turns out to be a remarkably unpleasant sensation, not to mention the fact that V will probably _never_ be able to get the fucking piss smell out of this shirt now, which he's already holding against Johnny. He tries to roll himself forward to get up and Johnny instantly puts a hand on his chest to force him back down. Now it's V's turn to glare daggers at Johnny, wishing the arrogant bastard would've just decided to beat the shit out of him and get it over with. Johnny doesn't notice - he's either not paying a lick of attention or just doesn't care, and is probably too drunk off his ass for both.

His eyes are roaming lazily up and down over V's body, looking him over almost triumphantly, as if V is some sort of prey he's caught and is now content to do whatever he wants with. V is about to start throwing blows himself if Johnny tries to keep him down again. He's not _at all_ expecting Johnny to reach down and tug at his open fly, and when he feels Johnny's hand just barely brush against his cock he gasps audibly and his hips instinctively buck a little. Together they form a pretty pitiful gesture, making it seem like V is almost desperate for Johnny to touch him. It probably gives Johnny the wrong idea - or maybe it's the _right_ idea, fuck; V can't tell.

"Heh...you really do like this, don't you?" Murmurs Johnny, his voice now sounding much more sultry than cocky. V is honestly surprised that someone as drunk as Johnny can even muster such a sexy timbre - but, of course, it is being filtered through V's own drunkenness, so it might not be quite as hot to someone who's not on the same level. Johnny pulls at V's pants again, trying to get as good a look as he can at the other's package. V isn't there enough to stop him or even to be sure he _wants_ to stop him. "Mmh, V...you never told me you had such a big, handsome dick." Johnny purrs. Only someone as shitfaced as he is would be able to go from wanting to punch V to admiring his cock in such a short amount of time.

"You never asked." V mumbles, still with it enough to sound snarky. Johnny gives a slow, drunk sort of chuckle under his breath, though whether or not it has anything to do with what V's saying is anyone's guess.

V watches Johnny run his tongue over the edge of his teeth, dark eyes all pupil and the smell of liquor strong on each heavy breath he exhales. He looks as horny as V feels. It's quite the abrupt shift, and in all honesty V is on a roll when it comes to having no idea what to do about a situation. Johnny, on the other hand, is on his own roll of stopping V from thinking before he can do anything, and he apparently has no intention of stopping, because before V even realizes what's happening Johnny has buckled on top of him and the two of them are locked together in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Somehow, that's the absolute last thing V was expecting to happen. His eyes go wide and he chokes a stifled grunt into Johnny's mouth, too shocked to do much of anything else. What few inhibitions Johnny normally has have all long since melted away under the tide of alcohol and he sure as hell isn't holding back; right away he's all tongue and teeth and hot, heady breath, exploring V's mouth at his leisure while the other man stays stunned beneath him. Within moments the sheer surprise at Johnny actually kissing him is lost to the flood of sensation coming from his mouth. V starts kissing him back without even noticing, some pure carnal instinct taking over for a mind that's part stupid drunk and part stupid with lust and all too overwhelmed.

Johnny tastes like liquor and cigarettes, yet he's more addictive than either. He's sure as hell doing _something_ right, because the kiss he's giving is sending volts straight down to V's cock, which is now rock hard and twitching against his stomach. He lifts his arms and threads Johnny's greasy rockerboy hair through his fingers, gripping handfuls of it like he never wants to let go. He's thoughtlessly trying to find some way to get Johnny closer than close, not knowing what he wants but knowing that he needs _more_ of whatever it is.

He could swear he feels hornier here and now than he ever has in his life. He sucks at Johnny's lips desperately, feeding him moan after moan, trying to lift his hips up off the floor to grind against him. Then all of a sudden he feels Johnny's hand wrap around his cock and his lips are wrenched out of the kiss as he throws his head back to cry out in pleasure. He feels piss in his hair now, but he can't manage to give half a fuck about it. His entire world is just the feeling of Johnny's warm, rough hand stroking his dick, the cool smooth metal of his rings giving a sharp contrast to it.

"That's it, V..." Johnny murmurs. "Hah, both heads are droolin' over me, huh?" He teases, rubbing his fingertip provocatively against the tip of V's cock to pick up a drop of precum, watching with a fixation the way it clings to his skin. When Johnny stops touching him, the noise V makes is nothing short of a whimper. He sits up on his arms, trying to figure out why Johnny's stopped, and sees him pulling his cock out of his pants (made easier by the fact that he still never zipped them back up after pissing on the floor). "Got somethin' for ya." Johnny rasps, tugging on his dick a few times before stilling his hand. V's not sure what he's doing, but at the same time isn't about to protest. Johnny grunts softly and then manages to release a weak stream of piss up V's front. V is honestly surprised that there's anything in his bladder at all after he just let out what looked like a whole week's worth of piss a few minutes ago - so surprised, in fact, that for a few seconds that's all that registers. The stream lasts for a moment, then stops, then Johnny strokes his cock a few times, and then it starts again. This time V doesn't have the buffer of shock and he feels it all, looking down and watching Johnny's urine run down his chest and soak right through his shirt.

"Ohh, _fuck_." V moans. His erection throbs visibly; he's _sure_ Johnny can see it spasm against his stomach before he wraps his own hand around it to pick up where Johnny left off. The stream stutters a lot, and each time it does Johnny takes the opportunity to stroke himself again. V's eyes are trained on Johnny's cock like his life fucking depends on it, watching eagerly as the flow comes down to hit him and then waiting just as eagerly for it to start again each time it stops. There's something shiny at the end of it that V assumes is a piercing, but he can't quite focus enough to get a good impression of it. Somehow he didn't notice that earlier - maybe due to being too focused on the impressive amount of urine coming from him to notice such a relatively small detail.

"You fuckin' like it, don'tcha?" Hisses Johnny, vigorously rubbing his cock. He stops his hand at the tip, holds it there and lets out a thin trickle for a second or two before it's over again. "Yeah, you like takin' my hot piss all over ya, V?" Johnny growls, panting through his teeth as he starts jerking on his cock again with just as much passion as before.

"Y-Yeah..." V whines out a timid response on impulse, only realizing after the fact how pathetic it sounds. Clearing his throat, he tries to toughen up the message by pretending like he had more to say. "Yeah, I like it." He continues, suddenly sounding much more gruff and assertive. "What the fuck are you gonna do about it?"

"I'm gonna fuck the ever-lovin' _shit_ outta you, V." Johnny sounds like he means it. Fuck, he looks like he means it too, the way his eyes are roaming V's body like he can't take in enough at once. It's intense, but _so_ fucking hot.

As turned on as V is by that promise, he's not sure it'll pan out. He shakes his head with a slow, dull sort of chuckle. "You're _way_ too drunk, man." V mumbles. He really isn't one to talk; he's drunk enough that he's lying in a puddle of (someone else's) piss and hasn't bothered to get up yet, but he's still sure Johnny is way further gone than he is. He's probably too wasted to get it up.

"The hell I am." Johnny protests gruffly. "You're sure as hell not too drunk, huh?" He scoffs, with a pointed look at V's erect cock lying stiffly against his stomach. Okay, so maybe he's got a point - V _does_ feel like he should also be way too drunk to have gotten hard so easily, although that still doesn't necessarily mean Johnny will be the same way. V doesn't want to argue with him, though; in fact, he'd probably prefer it if he _was_ wrong. Johnny wants to fuck, and V is way too horny to want to say no.

Johnny clumsily tries to pull V's pants a little further down his thighs, before apparently getting bored and muttering, "C'mon, V, jus'...jus' turn over. Get on your hands 'n' knees."

Even when he's shitfaced, he's still a pushy son of a bitch. V scoffs, but obeys anyway, awkwardly rolling himself over and shuffling into the position requested of him, still trying not to plant his hands directly in anything wet. Even though it feels like the whole goddamn puddle might as well have been sucked up into the fabric on the back of his shirt, there's still some glistening spots on the floor. There's not really any point to avoiding them, considering V already has piss all over the front and back of his torso and some in his hair, but he tries to keep his hands out of it anyway.

He's hardly brought himself up on his hands and knees by the time Johnny is on him again. He's impatient too, in addition to being pushy, and the alcohol hasn't made that any better either. Almost immediately he's got both palms against V's ass, hot rough skin on one side and smooth metal on the other, and is practically _kneading_ it, like he's making bread or something. He braces his hands and pulls his thumbs apart to spread V out, his heavy breathing quickly interrupted by a little purr that indicates he likes what he sees. He presses one of his fingers against V's hole - one of his _synthetic_ fingers - but it doesn't open for him right away. "Got a real tight little hole, huh?" He murmurs, playfully tracing V's rim with his fingertip. It's not as warm as his natural finger would be, and it sends a shiver up V's spine. But, it's also a lot smoother than his natural finger, and that lack of friction actually feels nice. "Looks like I gotta open you up a bit before I can get balls deep in that ass." Johnny hums, tailing with a sly chuckle.

V feels almost embarrassed by how hard his dick throbs when Johnny says that. Johnny tries to roll V's shirt a little further up his back, but the fabric is thoroughly wet and clings to his skin, so it's much more like peeling than rolling. "Damn, V - you're _soaked_." Johnny chuckles again, seeming to marvel at it like he's amazed that fabric absorbs liquid. He squeezes a handful of V's shirt in his hand and piss drips out of it, leaking right down into the dip of V's spine. "God, that's fuckin' hot." Remarks Johnny. Apparently, the two of them are both learning something about themselves tonight.

Johnny lets his hand slide back down to V's ass to spread him again. V's expecting to feel one of Johnny's fingers push against his opening again, trying to ease its way in, but instead he's surprised to hear Johnny move behind him. V tries to sluggishly look over his shoulder to gauge what Johnny's trying to do, and by the time he does Johnny has already sunk down to be eye-level with his ass. Within a moment he's got his face nestled right between those cheeks, his beard scratching against a lot of really sensitive skin and making V writhe at how _weird_ it feels. It actually kinda _tickles_ , which makes V instinctively recoil a little bit, but Johnny immediately reaches up to grab him by his hipbones with a ferocity. He's sure as hell not letting V go anywhere.

Johnny's pushy, and impatient, and sure as hell _forceful_ , but V wouldn't have it any other way. As soon as he feels Johnny's wet tongue on his hole he just goes weak, like he's fucking melting or something. His head drops instantly and he slides his arms out in front of them to rest his forehead on, his back sloping sharply downward from his hips, which can't move at all due to Johnny still having a death grip there. Johnny's got just as few reservations back there as he did with V's mouth, drunk and sloppy and fucking slobbering on him so much that spit runs down the back of his balls. V can't say anything except _'Johnny - fuck - oh fuck'_ , repeating over and over again like a broken record. Johnny licks V like his asshole is the best fucking thing he's ever tasted, twirling his tongue in circles around the rim and prodding his hole with the tip of it until it's open enough for his tongue to push inside. When he feels Johnny's tongue penetrate him, V straight up _howls_. Johnny hums happily, and V's insides vibrate with the sound, sending another shiver through his body.

Johnny fucks his tongue in and out rapidly, somehow knowing exactly when to stop to make V whine as loudly and desperately as possible. He tries to push his weight back to get Johnny's tongue back in him again, but Johnny's already pulled away by the time he manages. Johnny ignores him, leans forward a little to lay a very gentle kiss in the low rut of V's spine, right above where his tailbone starts. "Sweet like sugar, baby." He sighs contentedly. "Gonna make an addict outta me."

Johnny's voice is so soft, so satisfied, so _loving_ even. V's never heard him talk like that to anyone, much less to him. It's kinda surreal - not like this whole scenario isn't surreal enough in the first place - but V doesn't dislike it. As a matter of fact, the way Johnny's talking to him makes him feel fuzzy inside (separately from how aroused he is), and he wants more of it.

Johnny adjusts his grip to spread V's cheeks better so that he can admire his handiwork. V suddenly feels self-conscious about having Johnny's gaze on him, and he starts blushing clear down to his shoulders. The least Johnny could do is...not just fucking _stare,_ jeez. It's just an asshole, right? Sure, maybe it's slick with his spit and gently twitching open like it wants to be filled up more, but...okay, maybe V would be staring too. Johnny presses the heel of his palm beneath V's hole, pushing against his perineum and rolling his hand slowly down until he's rubbing V's balls into his skin. Johnny grabs them and squeezes, immediately making V yelp. "Atta boy." Growls Johnny, a low rumble like thunder welling up from the back of his throat. "Heh, you'll be screamin' a lot more by the time I'm done with you, baby."

Johnny's sure as hell got a filthy mouth on him; of course, the fucker can't hold his tongue even when he's sober, so it's likely he's just slurring out whatever pops into his head as he goes. V just never had him pegged for much of a dirty talker - even drunk. But he's...pleasantly surprised. Again, it's making V feel kinda tingly, and he likes it a lot.

Johnny tugs on his balls and V groans through his teeth. " _Johnny_..." He hisses. Johnny's blatantly toying with him now, deliberately not giving him what he wants, just trying to get V to whine more for him.

"Gonna beg for me?" Johnny prompts readily, with a lilt in his voice that says he's more demanding than asking. When V gives him only an uncertain grunt, Johnny replies with an insistent "Hmm?"

"J-Johnny, fuck..." V huffs. "Please, just...just stop teasing me, alright?" Johnny snorts at V's inarticulate reply, opening his hand and letting his fingers slide along V's shaft. It feels good, but it's not enough and Johnny knows it. "Johnny, _please_..." Groans V, more insistent this time, desperation now audible in his voice.

"Tell me whatcha want." Johnny insists, fingers gliding along V's cock, smearing precum down the underside of his shaft. V gasps and grunts, far from saying anything intelligible. Johnny doesn't accept that lack of an answer and promptly lets go of him, returning his hand to spreading V's ass. He lifts his right hand to his mouth, collects some spit on his forefinger, then lowers it again to trace the rim of V's hole with the tip. "Tell me what you want, V." Johnny repeats, this time speaking at a husky growl which is almost threatening. It's so, _so_ fucking sexy.

"Johnny, please, I just need...I need _more_." V pants, frustrated and needy but still _so_ turned on. 

"More what?" Slurs Johnny, proud of his dominion over V. He prods at his hole, fingertip just barely pushing inside, daring V to beg again.

"Goddammit, Johnny, just shut up and _fuck me_." V spits, demanding now, impatience finally getting the best of him. Johnny chuckles a little, which isn't a good sign. He also pulls his finger back, which V assumes is an even worse sign - until he feels what is undeniably the head of Johnny's cock take its place.

The first thing that strikes V is that Johnny is definitely pretty hard; he'd have to be in order to be nudging his cock up against V's hole this way. And the second thing that strikes V is that what he only assumed was a piercing earlier now definitely is one. He can feel it rubbing onto him, a little ring with a bead on it; it feels all kinds of weird. Every time Johnny's cock nudges at his hole, V braces himself to feel it slide into him, and every time Johnny pulls right back again - until he doesn't.

Johnny doesn't warn him, because _of course_ he doesn't; he just grabs his dick and presses it hard against V's opening until it starts to slip inside. V is surprised he's open enough for Johnny to penetrate him so easily, but mostly he's just blindsided by the feeling - it's kinda uncomfortable and kinda pleasurable and somehow all too much at once. Any slim part of Johnny that would've normally been telling him to go slow or be gentle has most definitely been silenced by alcohol; the only reason Johnny doesn't immediately start pounding the sense out of him is that V is too tight yet for Johnny to thrust very fast with any sort of ease.

"Ohh _fuck_ , V..." Swears Johnny, his normally deep and resolute voice trembling with pleasure. "Fuck, baby. You're so fuckin' tight." He murmurs unsteadily, pushing forward despite the resistance he feels, making V groan at the stingy feeling. Johnny's cock feels fucking _big_ \- maybe because V doesn't have anything else to compare it to or maybe just because it's actually that thick. It's pushing up against V's insides and he can feel every single movement Johnny makes go rippling throughout his entire body - especially when that little ring on the end of his cock presses right against this one spot where it feels so, _so_ good. V can't help but moan over and over again, getting just a little louder each time he feels friction on that sweet spot. Johnny's moaning too, far too drunk to think about stifling himself. 

"Feels okay?" Johnny asks, actually sounding a little bit like he's concerned.

"Y...yeah." Groans V. "Please, don't stop." It hurts a little, but he has a feeling it'd hurt more if he didn't have so much alcohol in his system. It's not that he doesn't still feel it, but his state of drunkenness is really helping him to not give a shit. Plus, it feels way too good for V to want it to stop.

Johnny grabs V up by his hipbones again; at this rate, he'll probably end up with bruises there from Johnny's impressively fierce grip. Johnny rocks his hips as quick as he dares, seemingly taking V's encouragement to heart - though V doesn't doubt he'd be doing much the same regardless. He manages to slip a bit deeper with every thrust, leaving V panting and gasping as Johnny intrudes further into him than he ever imagined _anything_ going. By the time he feels Johnny's balls press up against his own it feels like Johnny is in _all_ of him, threaded through every cell in his body, completely overtaking him. The weird thing is he's fine with it, even actually liking the way it feels.

Johnny leans forward a little more, lifts his center of gravity to get a slightly better angle. V can feel _everything_ , every second of every movement, down to sensations minute as the twitching of Johnny's hard cock inside him. He can tell there's another piercing further down his shaft, this one on the underside, not quite as noticeable as the one on his glans but still distinctly detectable when it's inside him. Both are sending _volts_ through his whole body, like miniature shockwaves he can never brace himself for. His body feels like it's burning up and his cock is leaping between his legs, slowly leaking precum down to the floor as it starves to be touched.

Just as V is about to lift one of his trembling arms and pull his hand down there to touch himself, Johnny intercepts him, grabbing V's cock before he has a chance to. Of course the fucker can't let V take the tiniest sliver of control; he needs to have it all, to be the master of V's body. He strokes up and down V's length vigorously, and the man shivers beneath him, words disintegrating on his tongue and passing his lips as only formless sounds. His hips start moving without his consent, bucking forward into Johnny's fist and backwards onto his cock in a wonderful rhythm.

"Joh...Johnny..." V moans weakly, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. Johnny chuckles at him, entertained by V's pleas, his vulnerability. V's blood is boiling and he knows he could come so easily if he kept going, but he has a lurking feeling that Johnny won't let him get off that easily.

Johnny lifts his free hand and then brings it back down in the same swift motion, spanking V so hard he jumps. "Love it when you say my name." Johnny growls. V whimpers, trying to start saying something but losing it once more when Johnny lets go of his shaft and pulls that hand back to spank the other cheek. V flinches again, and his cock twitches almost as hard, relishing that little spark of pain. "Ya like that, hmm?" Johnny croons down at him, somehow mocking and praising V at the same time.

"Y-Yeah." Stutters V, balling his fists in the absence of anything to grab onto. Johnny responds by smacking his ass again, first one side and then the other in turn. " _Fuck_." V swears, his ass throbbing almost as hard as his cock; Johnny has quite the fierce arm on him. "Johnny, fuck, I'm..." Then Johnny gives a particularly hard thrust of his hips and V has to bite his lip to steady himself. "Mm, I'm close." He whimpers, sounding desperate and needy like he's _begging_ Johnny to let him come. 

"Not just yet, hot stuff." Johnny purrs arrogantly, almost laughing as he speaks. "You gotta hold out a little bit longer for me." He sneers, left hand swinging back up and landing on him one last time. "When I need you to cum, I'll tell you."

V grits his teeth to keep himself from letting out any exceptionally unbecoming sounds, either because his ass stings now or because he's so close and wants to cum so badly. Johnny doesn't let up, fucks into him hard; V doesn't try to touch himself, just clenches his muscles and tries not to squirm too much. No matter how much he attempts to restrain himself, his thighs still spasm together and he still clenches around Johnny's cock every time the other man pushes in to the hilt. V feels downright feverish, sweat starting to bead and roll down his temples. The pleasure is so intense, and just from Johnny fucking him, without V touching himself after all. V could hardly have imagined it feeling _this_ good all on its own.

"Ohh, _shit_ \- fuck, Johnny, I'm so close." V gasps, on the cusp of begging but not quite ready to surrender that much just yet.

"Yeah, I know, baby." Johnny's voice is soft and raspy, like a whisper given elevation to a louder volume. It scrapes V's skin as if Johnny were raking his nails all the way down his back. V shivers and lowers his head, not even able to clench his teeth anymore to quiet himself. "Almost there." Grunts Johnny, gruff but still faintly reassuring. One of his hands bunches V's shirt up by his shoulders and clutches it hard. The fabric is still wet enough that a little bit of piss leaks from it and runs up the back of V's neck, which is almost powerful enough to make him lose control right then and there. 

He can hear how ragged Johnny's breathing is, feel how quick and erratic his movement is becoming. He's close too - and maybe even as close as V. He's weak now; he wants to cum too. V has a chance now.

"Johnny, please." V does his best to sound weak, his voice coming as a breathy, high-pitched whine. "Please, I'm so close." He begs in rapid-fire, not wanting to give Johnny's delirious brain any time to think too deeply about the way he responds.

"Yeah, keep beggin' for me." Johnny pants. A drop of sweat rolls off the edge of his jaw and lands on V's back. One tiny little droplet, but V feels it like it's a wave breaking over him. "Gettin' me right to the edge." Johnny leans forward even more sharply, all but hunched over V now, giving only short, shallow thrusts. His knuckles press into V's spine as he grips him by his bunched-up shirt.

" _Johnny_..." V sobs his name this time. "I need to cum. _Please_ , Johnny, I need to cum..." V writhes impatiently, fists clenched and muscles tensed throughout his whole body. Johnny grunts again, wraps his free arm underneath V and grabs his dick roughly. It hardly takes one good stroke along his length before V is cumming, spilling out under Johnny's touch. He bucks his hips back onto Johnny in a fervid rhythm, panting and howling as he climaxes. Johnny buckles forward and chokes out a string of swears right next to V's ear, immediately rushing to match V's rapid pace.

Of course Johnny, drunk and wild with lust as he is, wouldn't bother to pull out and shoot his load onto V's back. V somehow hadn't thought about _Johnny_ cumming at all until it was already happening. It feels...warm, wet, strange, all kinds of things - none of which he could say are particularly bad. V whines a low note and goes limp in Johnny's grasp, not even caring as the other man rides out his orgasm inside him. Johnny's movements soon slow down and he shivers into a similarly weak state to V's. He sits there panting, moving very slowly until it's too much for his oversensitive cock and he has to pull out. V yelps at the feeling; fuck, he's sure as hell not gonna be able to walk right in the morning - probably gonna be feeling it for a _week_.

V feels cum leaking down towards his thighs. His body is hot and weak. He wouldn't want to be anywhere else, doing anything else. It's as satisfying an afterglow as V has ever felt. Johnny collapses down to a sitting position next to him, before leaning down on his elbows and letting his head fall back. It's only a matter of seconds before Johnny is all the way to lying on his back. V takes a cue from him and lies on his stomach, way beyond caring about how filthy he is.

V is trembling a little, trying to regain himself. He can feel Johnny next to him, hear his deep, labored breathing. V is sluggish enough from being drunk that the aftermath of his orgasm has all but knocked him out. He's still pretty damp and definitely smells like piss, but he hasn't cared yet and isn't about to start now. Eventually he takes a deep breath and rolls over, uncomfortable lying on his stomach. His vision is kinda blurry and he feels really tired all of a sudden, now that the high of having sex is over. V props himself up and looks over at Johnny, surprised to see his labored breathing is now slow and rhythmic. His eyes are closed.

V blinks a few times. The motherfucker is _asleep._ Considering how shitfaced drunk he was, it shouldn't be too surprising, but V is floored nonetheless. It seems like sheer audacity. There's probably no fucking way V's gonna wake his wasted ass up now, so he just gives up and flops down on his back. He's really not that much more sober than Johnny is, because the world is spinning and flickering in and out of darkness around him. V tries to fight himself into staying awake for a minute or two, the thought tumbling around in his head that he needs to get up and take a shower and change his clothes, but it keeps dissolving back into nothingness. Eventually, it doesn't come back, and silence overtakes him.

So, in a roundabout sort of way, that's how V ended up passing out with his pants down in a pool of Johnny Silverhand's piss. He didn't regret a damn minute of it.


End file.
